Connection and Control In Eating Disorder Recovery

We had a big turn-out at group on Tuesday evening, several regular attendees and some new faces, as well. We spoke a little about how stepping into a group like this for the first time can be scary. Sharing such vulnerable parts of yourselves with strangers, perhaps not knowing how you’ll be received, not even quite sure you’re ready to say—out loud—you may be struggling with an eating disorder. Yet again, though, the group process reminds us that we are not alone. There is no need to stay isolated or hidden in the shadows. As members shared their stories, I heard over and over, “Everyone in this room has felt what you’re feeling,” or “Everything you just said has been said in this room.” When you begin to hear your story, spoken out of the mouths of others, connection and healing are taking place. The ED would like nothing better than to keep you in hiding or as one member put it, “in the dark places.” But as you begin to come forward into the light and speak—in the company of other witnesses—the ED begins to lose some of its power. Whether you feel it or not, you have chosen to take a step towards health. And all of us, I’m convinced, need reminding at one time or another that we are okay. That we’re valuable and significant and seen. That we have a place and purpose in the world. As one member shared her current challenges, another reflected back to her, “I only wish you could see what I see. I wish you could see how amazing you are.”

We talked about that ongoing battle of always trying to “fix” those things in our lives that are broken or just aren’t perfect. Body, appearance, job, salary, home…the list goes on and on. One member shared that she once was convinced that if only she could fix all of these things, life would be good and she could be happy. What she is learning, though, is that the foundation of it all is in truly loving herself. When that self-acceptance piece is there, somehow acceptance for all the rest seems manageable. “Life is a chessboard,” she expressed. “No matter how I try to manipulate the pieces, the chessboard will still be there.” My guess is that any of us who have struggled with an ED—and perhaps the entire human race, if we’re all being honest—can relate to this tendency to focus on the external when the internal doesn’t feel okay. Looking to find order and control in those things on the outside when what is on the inside is not so neat and clean. This idea of control, though, is elusive. We can’t always see how it’s roping us in like quicksand. How we take a step and “fix” one thing, but another is always around the next corner. The more fixing we do, the more we seem to get swallowed and consumed by the need to do so. These disapproving voices sound not so vaguely reminiscent of the ED voice—the voice that won’t ever seem to let you rest because there are always five more pounds to lose, extra miles to run, more rules to follow…I wonder what the external around us might look like if we really stopped all this efforting. Would it really all fall apart? Or, might we find a little more peace than we knew was possible?

Written by Stefani Adair, Volunteer Facilitator